Pour the Drinks and Crush the Flowers
by knittycat99
Summary: Kurt Hummel, and what it's like being gay in Lima if you're not Kurt Hummel


**A/N: **_This is inspired by the boy in Born This Way who is painting sets while Kurt sings As If We Never Said Goodbye_. _It's a little peek at what it might be like to be gay in Lima if you're not Kurt Hummel. Much thanks to the awesome nubianamy for her beta and her thoughts on Finn, and for taking time from her own writing to do so. If you all aren't reading her very excellent Donutverse, you need to be. _

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><p>Being invisible in Lima is surprisingly easy. Evan knows it's not that way for everyone, but being a sophomore on the stage crew means that he flies pretty far under the radar. It also means that he knows the best empty pockets of school hallways and the best hidden corners to escape to when someone else is being targeted for being <em>too<em> visible.

Evan kind of hates it. Not the invisibility part, because that has _serious_ perks, but the hiding part. Evan doesn't have anyone to come out to, so it's kind of irrelevant, but even if he did he's pretty sure nobody would care because, hello. Invisible.

He kind of wishes somebody did care.

Okay, that's a lie. He wishes Kurt Hummel cared.

Yes, even the invisible kids know about Kurt Hummel, about how something went down with that closet-case Karofsky (no, none of Evan's friends believe him when he swears it's true, but he's _seen_ Karofsky, the way he lets his gaze linger a little too long, the way his ears tinge pink at the tips when one of the other jocks makes fag jokes; he looks the way Evan feels inside when he hears those things, and that can't mean nothing), and how Kurt had to transfer to Dalton. He hears the Glee kids talk all the time, before rehearsals when he's rigging lights or testing the sound board. Evan hears them say how it's better for Kurt at Dalton because he's not the only gay kid there, and _that's_ what really hurts. Kurt wasn't the only gay kid at McKinley. Even if you don't count Santana and Brittany, and (probably) Dave Karofsky, the statistics don't lie. There should be an even dozen at least, if not more, and Evan wishes that just once, Kurt and everyone else would realize that you can't always see the gay in people.

Evan gets ribbed by his non-theater friends for being in stage crew. They complain that it takes too much time, and tease Evan lightly for things like makeup and costumes. Evan likes the costume shop, and learning about different ways to apply makeup, but that isn't all stage crew is. There's props, and lights, and sound, and set design. And set painting. Today, it's endless amounts of blue paint on these damn waves, and Evan's glad that he at least wore an older hoodie that already has some paint splatters from last summer's community theater sets; the hoodie is green, so the blue shouldn't show up too badly. He's crouched there with Nina, the two of them dabbing away at the waves, when he hears soft singing from the wings. He doesn't really look up from his work, but he lets his eyes drift above the frames of his glasses and, well. He'll be damned. Kurt Hummel, the prodigal son himself returned to McKinley.

Surprise, surprise.

Evan keeps his head down, painting and listening.

Kurt really does have a beautiful voice.

* * *

><p>The student center at OSU's Lima campus is crazy-cold, so even though it's better than 90 degrees outside, Evan makes himself a large Mocha to keep warm. It's not like the coffee bar is hopping or anything; he's certainly not going to work his way into being warm. It's summer session, for crying out loud. The only kids taking classes are the ones who need something easy to fill a missed credit or two, or the handful of high school kids in the Early College program. Evan can't complain, though, because it's a job with pay, and he gets a tuition break of his own on top of the one his mom gets after 15 years with Food Services, which means that his own Early College class is free, which kind of rocks.<p>

He likes the morning shift because he can take the bus in the early silence of the day, and he likes the order of opening. He likes setting up his cash drawer, and putting away the clean dishes, and the stark scent of brewing coffee. The café brings the desserts out at 8, and the lady who does the baking always has a little plate of something for him, a fresh muffin or a warm cookie. The morning rush, if it can even be called that, comes around 10 am. Like clockwork, the same people with the same drinks. A trio of girls in soccer gear (two chais and an iced latté), scattered Professor Reynolds from the math department (small coffee, lots of room for lots of cream, and a blueberry muffin). An intense guy with glasses and an overstuffed briefcase (a _briefcase, _like it's anywhere but Lima fucking Ohio), who likes Peppermint tea (_but the bag on the side so I can brew it myself, please)_ and sits through the lunch hour at one of the four-top tables with papers spread all around him. Every day.

Until this day, when he's on his second Mocha and the soccer girls had pastries instead of drinks, and Professor Reynolds had a scone in stead of a muffin, and Intense Guy hasn't shown at all yet.

Until this day when he's humming along with the Tom Petty playing over the sound system and looks up to see Kurt Hummel, head cocked to the side watching Evan like he can see everything.

Evan drops his sani-rag on the counter. "Can I help you?"

"I know you."

"I don't think so."

Kurt keeps looking, and nods. "You go to McKinley. Ethan? Ian?"

"Evan."

"Evan. Stage crew."

"Yeah." Well. So much for being invisible.

Kurt slips the strap of his messenger bag from his right shoulder over his head, so that it's lying across his chest and smiles. "Hi. I'm Kurt."

"I know who you are." Evan lets his voice drop. "I think _everyone_ knows who you are."

Kurt looks down at his feet and sighs. "Yeah."

Okay, then. _That_ was the wrong thing to say. "So. What's your poison?"

"Iced mocha? Extra pump of chocolate?"

"You got it."

Evan loses himself in the motions of making Kurt's drink, but sneaks a look every few seconds because the Kurt standing in front of him looks different from the Kurt he sees at school. For one, he's dressed down in plain shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of battered Converse with no socks. For another, he looks both tired and sad. For a third, he keeps thumbing angrily at the touch screen on his phone and sighing, like whatever is going on in his universe is simply _too much_. Evan finishes Kurt's drink, rings it up. Kurt fishes a crumpled five out of his pocket and hands it over, and Evan hands over the drink. Kurt takes a deep sip and sighs, closing his eyes against the rush of caffeine. When he opens them, his eyes seem to focus on the book that Evan's left, face-down and spine cracked, on the end of the counter. Then he looks back at Evan, and smiles a knowing smile.

"Good book. For your class or . . ."

"Just for me."

"What class are you taking?"

"Intro to playwriting." Because really, stage crew is fun, and a good experience, but Evan has bigger dreams than that. "You?"

"French."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

They stand in silence, Evan wiping useless circles with his rag on the counter, until Kurt looks down at his watch and moves to leave. "Gotta go. Class. See ya."

Evan waves an awkward wave and stares at Kurt's departing back.

* * *

><p>It's two weeks before he sees Kurt again. This time it's in the cool of the early evening. Evan stayed after his class to work in the computer lab, and got caught up to the point where he missed his bus. It's a nice evening for late July, so he decides to wait the 40 minutes for the next bus to his part of town. He's lying in the grass by the bus stop, eyes closed and imagination going crazy, when he hears the muffled crunch of tires and the squeal of a window being rolled down. Evan sits up, and sees Kurt leaning across the passenger seat of a large SUV.<p>

Fancy.

"You need a ride?"

Evan waves him off. "I take the bus, but I missed my regular one. I don't mind waiting."

"Seriously. Get in. I can give you a ride, we just need to make two stops on the way."

What the hell. Why not. Evan grabs his backpack and crosses the sidewalk, brushing the grass off of his shorts as he walks. "Thanks," he says as he climbs up into air-conditioned comfort.

"No problem. Really. Where do you live?"

"On the west side, off Chestnut."

"Perfect. That's not far from me. How's your class going?"

"Pretty good. We have a scene due next week, so I stayed to work on it. That's why I missed my bus."

"Mmmm. It happens. I was in the library. College French is a lot harder than what we get at McKinley."

Evan rolls his eyes and swallows back the worst of his sarcasm. "I think everything is harder than what we get at McKinley."

Kurt laughs. "Point." He pauses for a minute, lets out a squeak, and turns the radio up. He sways a little in his seat, singing along under his breath. _So raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways . . ._ Evan half-recognizes the song, but it doesn't matter who sings it or why it's making Kurt dance. He just likes listening to Kurt sing.

The song is just ending as they pull into the parking lot of the Sheets 'n Things on the edge of downtown, and Evan spies the tall, lanky form of Finn Hudson leaning against the wall outside. He's got a backpack over his shoulder and some kind of fabric balled up in his hands. When he sees the car, he rushes over and Kurt motions him into the back. When Finn is settled in, Kurt waves his hand at the both of them. "Finn, this is Evan. We're giving him a ride."

Finn splutters. "But I have . . . "

"Dinner with Rachel, I know. I'll drop you home first."

Evan digs into his memory; he thinks he remembers now that Finn's mom and Kurt's dad are married, which makes these two officially the oddest pair of step-siblings in the world.

Evan watches streets pass as the brothers makes small talk over the faint hum of the radio, until they pull up in front of a not-too-big, plain looking house in a quiet neighborhood like Evan's own. There is an older model pickup in the drive next to a slightly battered station wagon. Finn scampers out of the back seat, and is halfway up the walk when he turns back to Kurt.

"You home for dinner?"

"No. I'm meeting Dave for dinner. We have things to discuss, you know."

"'kay. I'll remind Burt, in case he forgot. Did he say when my car might be done?"

"Tomorrow, think. Let me know if you need a ride to work, or if Rachel is taking you."

"Will do. Have fun."

Evan tries to be invisible, but he can't help but notice the way Kurt rolls his eyes as Finn closes the front door behind him. He turns and looks at Evan. "Stepbrothers."

Evan just nods and shrugs. "Only child," he offers, and Kurt smiles at him.

"You're quiet."

"You drive a really nice car."

Evan wants the floor to drop out, or the seat to swallow him whole, because he's said something so totally inappropriate. But Kurt just nods. "She was my 16th birthday present. My dad got her at auction for a steal. She needed a little work, breaks and new tires and all that. We worked on her together."

At Evan's blank look, Kurt keeps talking. "My dad owns Hummel Tires and Lube?"

"Oh." And his brain is in overdrive, processing the neighborhood and working class childhood and step-family, and trying to make it all add up to the Kurt he sees at school, to the fashion and the attitude, but none of it computes.

He directs Kurt to his house, and shoulders his bag before leaning into the open window. "Thanks for the ride."

"Any time. Really."

Evan waits on his front step, watching Kurt drive away. He's always been a little envious because of Kurt's inability to hide. But now he wonders what people are missing if all they ever see is the gay in Kurt.

* * *

><p>First day of school, Evan's wandering the upper-class corridor searching for his new locker when he sees Dave Karofsky, bulked up in his letterman jacket, a cupful of cherry slushie in his hand, striding down the hall with purpose. Evan ducks into the little alcove between the restrooms and waits, watching to see who the target is before he moves on. But there is no target, just Dave's arm snaking around the open red door of a locker, Dave's voice lifting over the din of voices and the clanging of metal.<p>

"Thought you might want one. Y'know, a peace offering. I'm sorry I blew up like that."

The voice echoing from behind the locker is light, cheerful. The voice is Kurt's.

"Thanks. Really, it's no big deal. I know you're nervous, but a lot of people will be there. Safety in numbers and all that. Coach knows you'll be late to practice?"

"Yeah. I think if she didn't have a practice to run she'd be there herself."

"Go to class, Dave."

"Go to class, Kurt."

Dave heads down the hall, and Evan watches and waits while Kurt gathers his things and closes his locker. When he spies Evan lingering in the alcove, he folds a half-sheet of green copy paper into a tiny rectangle and reaches it out to Evan as he passes. His voice is pitched just for Evan.

"After school. You should join us."

Evan doesn't have time to respond before Kurt is gone. When he finally unfolds the paper under his desk in homeroom, he finds a flier for a PFLAG meeting, that afternoon in the choir room.

Evan never thought he'd see the day PFLAG came to McKinley.

He doesn't go to the first meeting. He doesn't go for the first month of meetings. He pretends that he has too much homework, but the truth is that he's scared. Because as much as he'd like to pretend that he wants to be out and proud, he's seen what it's done to Kurt. He's seen Santana Lopez crying in the same empty corners of school he uses to hide in. He's not brave enough.

He avoids Kurt in the halls that first month, too. It's easy. It's not like they're even friends. They've hardly said a handful of words to each other. But he doesn't want to be looked at as _less than_ anything because he can't make himself walk through that door.

In the end, it's Brittany Pierce who finds him lingering by the water bubbler in the arts wing. She just smiles at him, ruffles his hair and tugs him by the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Are you the coffee kid?"

Evan looks at her and squeaks out "Excuse me?"

"The kid who made Kurt's coffee just the way he likes it? He said that kid wears hoodies with paint on them." She gestures at his gray zip-up, which indeed has a few splatters of cream-colored paint at the cuffs.

"Yeah. That's me."

"Good. Kurt said for me to tell you there's nothing to be afraid of. He sees everything, you know. And he'll keep your secrets."

What's he supposed to say to any of that? He just follows Brittany down the hall, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

* * *

><p>Evan's spent much of his adolescence sitting on floors with a paintbrush in his hands, but scene painting has never been this much fun. He's sprawled on the floor in the choir room sharing a bottle of purple paint with Nina while the others are scattered around the room with different colors. There's music blasting, and Brittany and Santana have given up on the painting all together and are dancing in the corner. Evan pauses in his work and takes in the rest of the room. Kurt and Dave are busy with some green paint, and Evan tries not to stare as Kurt's thumb barely brushes across the back of Dave's hand. Dave smiles at him. There are a handful of guys from Dalton helping out, and Kurt told them at last week's meeting that some of the Dalton kids are going to caravan down to Columbus and march with them in the parade. Evan thinks it's to bulk up their numbers, but if that cute Ryan kid comes along Evan won't complain.<p>

The music changes from rock to ballads, and he can hear Rachel's voice rising above the group. She's working diligently on a sign that screams "I love my two gay dads!", and he can hear her urging Finn to make his own sign about loving his gay brother. Finn keeps slapping at her hand with his brush, and he's speckled her with orange paint. When she runs from the room to wash up, Evan is startled to find that Finn is very suddenly in his space.

"Dude. You should ask Ryan out."

"No."

"He likes you. Kurt said. He knows those guys pretty well, and he wouldn't tell me things like that if they weren't true."

"I don't think I'm ready for that."

"You can't keep your eyes off him."

Evan can feel a blush creeping up his face. "I can, too."

Finn nudges Evan with his shoulder and laughs gently. "You so can't. I've seen Kurt go through this, first with Blaine and then with Dave. You can't fight it. Just give in."

Evan dips his brush back in the paint, and focuses on his work for a moment. When he looks up, Finn is just sitting there, patient and quiet. Waiting.

Evan whispers to him. "Do you know if he's going to the parade?"

"Probably. I'll ask Kurt tonight."

"Oh. Okay."

"Evan." There's something in Finn's voice, something that won't let Evan hide. He looks up, surprised that Finn and Kurt seem to share the ability to look right into a person. "I know this is all still pretty new for you, but don't be scared. I think that's the biggest thing I've learned from Kurt. Don't be scared. You can do whatever you want, don't let anybody tell you otherwise. Okay?"

Evan nods, and Finn slips away as silently as he arrived.

He doesn't go up and talk to Ryan yet. But he tries not to be scared about the thought of it.

* * *

><p>The morning after graduation, Evan's at work as usual. Now that it's summer, he'll be opening every day. He's lucky, he's been able to get a full 40 hours a week. He'll need the money in September, when he goes off to Chicago for school. It's going to be hard, leaving his family and his boyfriend and his friends, but it's time. He's gone as far as he can in Lima.<p>

He's stocked the pastries, brewed the coffee, and stocked the fridge, and he's just waiting for something to happen when the door dings open and Evan looks up.

The man in front of him cocks his head to the side, looks at Evan and speaks evenly.

"I know you. You used to be that shy kid with glasses on the stage crew. The one I had to drag to a PFLAG meeting."

Evan smiles broadly, twists his rainbow beaded bracelet around his wrist. "Kurt. Iced mocha, extra pump of chocolate?"

"Please. It's too early to be up, but I'm opening the garage all week. My dad and Carole are on their honeymoon, finally."

"Good for them." Evan busies himself with Kurt's drink, trying to calm his brain because there's _so much_ he wants to ask Kurt, about the city and college and college boys and being out away from Lima. But it all gets lost when he hands the drink over. All he can do is let his hand linger a moment under Kurt's fingers on the plastic cup and whisper _thank you_.

Kurt doesn't ask for what. He just holds Evan's gaze, showing him strength and bravery and pride. His reply is a whisper as well.

"You're welcome."


End file.
